


Familiar Eyes, Familiar Smell, I Know You.

by blackfin



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Beware, Fluff, M/M, bit of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackfin/pseuds/blackfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being rescued from the brink of death, Aoba finds himself in the care of a mysterious but kind man who calls himself Ren. Funnily enough, there is something familiar about Ren and Aoba finds himself quickly falling for him but just where from does he know this handsome, enigmatic man?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familiar Eyes, Familiar Smell, I Know You.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Christmas gift fic for ruffruffren!

The only kindness he had been shown was in the shape of a small, flimsy, thin, rough, torn in several places, completely incapable of keeping anything or anyone warm blanket, if one could even call it that. Aoba certainly wouldn’t. What he would call it was a way they could shrug off some of their guilt for leaving him out in a field, chained to the ground with the snow falling quick and the temperature plummeting even quicker. He supposed that in a way, it was a kindness but it wasn’t a very good one. The thin clothes he had been given to wear weren’t any protection against the snow or wind or cold. He hadn’t even been given any shoes, “A sacrifice needs no shoes. They need no shoes when they are soon to be walking in the afterlife with the ones who have come before” he had been told by a crusty Father in the town.

“What a load of rubbish.” Aoba grounded out through chattering teeth. A petty excuse – they didn’t have any shoes to give to him. No socks or even sacks to put on his feet to keep some warmth about him. None of that could be given to him, no, it all went to those who got to live. It went to those who turned their heads away and tried to not look at what they were going. It went to those who stared blankly on, it went to those who reassured him again and again that what he was doing or rather, what he was being forced to do, was for the good for everyone in the town and he would receive a beautiful, mountainous reward when he reached the afterlife – those had been immediately shut up by him when he had retorted “then why don’t you do it then? If there is such a reward waiting, why am I the one to do it when I don’t want it?” – those did not come back to talk to him after that, and then there were ones who felt totally justified in it, they were the ones who whispered “the greater good” and completely ignored his well-being as he was just another piece in the journey to fulfilling the needs of the “greater good”. There was no way to fight back against them – they were so fervent in their beliefs you could tell them that cutting off their own arms would be for the greater good and they would do it without hesitation, they were the ones that if you told them murdering their entire family would be for the greater good, they would already have blood on their hands.

Psychos, as he liked to call them. People he had eagerly and fervently avoided before all of this. People his grandmother had warned him to stay away from as they were the real monsters, not the shadows, spirits and beasts in the woods. Those could be bargained with, reasoned with – you had a gift, something to trade or give whether it be material or not, you could probably get out with a few scratches at the least and maybe a broken bone at the most. With these types of people, you could beg, scream, kick, threaten, bargain and it would all fall on empty ears and eyes.

He couldn’t count the number of times he had been warned by his grandmother to avoid that town, to avoid the people as they were rotted and diseased to the core. Not with physical illness or even mental, no, they were sick in spirit. That was something that couldn’t be treated. Best way to handle someone sick in spirit was to avoid them – no use talking or reasoning, if they were ever to be cured; it had to be on their own. Trying to do it yourself would just end you up in well, the position he was currently in: being sacrificed to some god of theirs which if appeased by his death, would bring a good harvest.

“Clichéd. Couldn’t think up something more creative?” Aoba chattered into the falling snow.

There had been others sacrificed before him. Littered around the clearing he was in were a multitude of human remains. There was partially decomposed body to his left that looked it had been there for a while but the cold had significantly slowed down the rotting. Aoba could see that whomever it was had had blond hair. Looking around, he counted sixteen skulls in all. There were also numerous rib cages, what looked like leg bones and one or two pelvises.

“Monsters.” He whispered, a mighty shiver running through his body, “Fucking monsters.”

It seemed their method of sacrificing was exposure. Though, he couldn’t say for certain as he had no idea if people were sacrificed only in winter time when the temperature could plummet into the negatives easily. He supposed they could also use the method of starvation, dehydration or heat stroke as well, if they were forced to sacrifice someone in the warmer months.

He felt sick. He hadn’t eaten in a few days but he still felt like he was going to vomit. His bottom lip began to tremble as he once again glanced over to the frozen and rotting corpse beside him, and knew that in a short time, that would be him. He wouldn’t last out here in these kinds of temperatures. Stumbling to his feet and giving the chain that was holding him down to the ground a strong tug in desperate hope that he might get lucky and it would break or give or something, Aoba struggled to not cry. Crying wouldn’t do him any good. It would just give him a headache, make his nose run and all that icky stuff. Panic was not a good thing to have at the moment, either.

He was certain that if he just stayed calm and thought about it, he could get himself out of this mess. But, the more he pulled on the chain, harder and stronger each time, more and more the aspect of staying calm began to wane.

One of his feet slipped on the snowy ground and he went down to his knees. He was so cold. All the feeling in his hands, legs, arms and feet had almost completely faded. His body was shivering so hard it was difficult to even maintain a grip on the chain. A harsh, desperate sob escaped his lips as he sat down, pulled fruitlessly on the chain once again before letting it drop. He pulled his knees up to his chest in a desperate attempt to keep himself warm and tried very, very hard to not cry.

He could bring only one comfort to himself: there was no one left to mourn him. His twin brother had passed away some years ago and his grandmother had peacefully passed on in her sleep less than a year ago. As far as he knew, he had no family left. He had no friends to speak of as most of his life had been spent in a isolated wood, where menfolk and all others did not travel as the forest was heavy with old spirits who spoke not the tongue of man, elves or any other but their own special one - the remaining of his years had been spent on the road, traveling the world for really no reason at all. Sure, he had met a great many people of all different races and shared a sweet brew of bubble beer with them but there were none he would call friends. There was no one to grieve his death, no one to be heart broken, no one to fret over where his body was, where he was, what had happened to him. He consoled himself with that as snow began to pile on top of him and the last feeling in his limbs completely faded.

Grandmother would likely be furious. What had he been thinking, wandering so close to one of those villages? Did he have a death wish or something? Hadn’t she warned him so many times to stay away? Aoba chuckled weakly as he imagined her bonking him on the head and calling him a stupid grandson. He could see her then shaking her head, sighing and just saying, “Well, that’s that. What happened has and there is nothing we can do about it now.” As she always did whenever Aoba did something stupid or got into some kind of trouble. She would always follow it up with, “Just do your best with what you’ve been handed, even if it means hurting your pride.”

“I don’t know how to handle this, Granny.” He whispered into the snow, his eyelids heavy, his body so cold that he was sure he was could to freeze solid any moment. It was becoming hard to think. He tried to close his hand into a fist but it was like his hand had suddenly gone deaf. The most he could manage was a weak twitching of his fingers. More and more snow piled on top of him, soon, there would be nothing left of him.

“Granny, I’m scared.”

He collapsed over onto his side, snow flying all around him as the flakes perch was disrupted. From where he lay, he could see an old, almost completely white skull half buried in the snow. Shivering violently, his teeth chattering loudly in the silent air, he fought against the weariness that was overcoming him. He wasn’t one to give in – he would fight this until the very end and with his final breath, he would curse those diseased, horrid people who lived in the town below. He’d curse them with foul crops, miscarriages and famine. He’d curse them with diseases, plagues and death. He’d curse them to failure, to death, to ruin.

He would curse them with his very last death rattle.

The world was beginning to fade in a blur of white. His body had stopped shivering and seemed to almost be frozen. Breathing slowly, he continued to focus on that skull. Who had it belonged to? What had they been thinking as they died? Did they have loved ones? Tears began to slide from his eyes. He wished he could comfort them. They were long gone but still, he wished there was something he could do for them. Maybe in the afterlife, he could find them. What he would tell them, he had no idea; just something, anything to bring them comfort. Closing his eyes, he focused on breathing – that was about all he could do.

The last thing he remembered was feeling like he was floating, drifting along in a fade of white. Then, warmth; blessed, wonderful warmth – it wrapped around in like a soft, glorious blanket and he sank into it without regrets, without sadness. Everything faded away after that but before it did, he could have sworn he felt a warm, strong, large hand pressed against his brow and a deep, gentle voice whispering, “Sleep. You are safe. I will protect you, Aoba” into his ear. Those words rung like a bell in his mind as he drifted further and further into oblivion.

\--

Blinking groggily in the low light, Aoba slowly awoke. For several moments, all he could do was stare at the rocky ceiling above him without many thoughts or emotions going on inside of him. It was only when he noticed the lamp light beside him that a shock went through his entire body and he jolted straight up. Breathing hard, he whipped his head around and around, looking at every inch of the room he was in.

It was an odd one. It didn’t appear as though he was in a house but rather, a cave. A well-furnished one, weirdly enough that had a large tapestries with what he recognized as the Old Kingdom’s emblem on it hanging proudly on one of the walls of the cave, a large shelf off to the side which was filled to the brink with volumes upon volumes of books, there was also what looked to be a makeshift desk (made out a single plank of wood laid over two large rocks) that had paper atop of it and a ink bottle with a feather quill sticking out of it and to his right was a large, old, weathered, ripped, still rather gorgeous unoccupied armchair. The bed he was currently resting in was also makeshift – leaning over the side, he could see it was not supported by a frame but rather several planks of wood, all stacked atop of one another. The mattress was soft and comfy, though a bit bumpy and there was a large assortment of furs, blankets and pillows piled up on top. It was a room – there were walls and a doorway with a curtain in front of it that led to whatever was beyond. It was just a very strange room.

Blinking rapidly, Aoba looked down at himself to find the ragged clothing he had previous been dressed in were gone. Those had been replaced with larger, baggier clothing of a higher grade material – what it was, he couldn’t tell but it felt strong and sturdy in-between his fingertips. There were also well made socks on his feet and a soft, fluffy blanket wrapped around his legs. More curiously, however, were the bandages with runes burned into them that were wrapped around his appendages. He had never been very knowledge when it came to runes so he had no idea what they meant. However, they seemed to be generating heat almost.

Placing his finger over one, he tilted his head and wondered aloud, “A stimulus? Maybe a healing rune?”

Both were possible. If this was actually happening and he wasn’t just hallucinating, he had most likely had or still did have frost bite. The runes might be healing his skin, flesh and nerves. A stimulus would cause a reaction that would rapidly produce healing, it was meant for more serious cases when healing needed to be done immediately – it often caused some effects of the ailment to remain. A healing rune would be more focused on longer, more concentrated healing that was meant for those not in that much danger, it was meant to have him down for a while but ultimately without any lingering effects. 

Giving his head a little shake, he decided what kind of rune wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was finding out who on earth had rescued him and where he was. Sliding over to the edge of the bed, he swung his legs out, set his feet on the floor and tried to stand up.

Only to fall flat on his stomach the moment he attempt to put weight on his feet. Groaning loudly, he rolled over onto his back and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“Not my best idea,” he muttered darkly to himself as he pulled himself back over to the bed and attempted to get back up onto it as the floor was very, very cold. However, there didn’t seem to be much strength in his arms either so getting back up was proving to be particularly difficult. After struggling with it for a bit and ended up in quite the bit of pain and completely out of breath, Aoba slumped down beside the bed and sighed, “Great. Just great.”

The most he could do was snag one of the blankets off the bed. After struggling for a few more moments, he got it wrapped around himself. Thankfully, it provided a significant amount of warmth and was big enough to cover his entire body so at least he wasn’t that cold. Sighing, he snuggled down into it.

“Guess I’m waiting for whomever to show up.” He said to no one in particular.

In the meantime, he bemused himself with wondering who on earth would live in such a place. He had heard of Mothers and Old Mothers living in caves like this, away from society where they could worship their gods in peace. He doubted this was a cave belonging to either one of those, though. There weren’t any idols or shrines in the room he was in, which he knew was considered taboo for them. Every room had to be adorned with some kind of emblem of whatever their central deity was. Why, he had no idea – that was just something they did. So, that ruled them out. He supposed it could be a hermit, someone who had also willingly cut themselves off from society to live in peace out in the wilderness. He would prefer a hermit over a Mother or Old Mother – not that he had anything against either of them or their faith, he just found them a bit overbearing. It was possible that hermit could also be a wizard or witch, studying the local forestry or enjoying the quiet and stillness as they studied. 

Of course, the occupant of this dwelling could possibly be an elf, most likely one of the dark elves – strange beings with blood red eyes that took up near half of their face, ash colored skin and large mouths filled with sharp, strong teeth that could amputate a limb with a single bite. Despite their rather odd appearance and the danger they presented, they were kind, generous people who only attacked with provoked, which happened a great many times as most were quick to judge on appearances and a great many were prejudiced against them, especially the menfolk in the North – obviously, that ended up being a fatal decision on their part. It wasn’t inconceivable that there could be a dark elf living out here. There was also the possibility of a dwarf, though all the dwarves he had met and spent time were not tidy enough for the clean presented state of the room he was currently in. Not to mention dwarves did not like the cold so it would be odd for one to be living here. He supposed it wasn’t impossible, though. Dwarves were a bit strange so it was always a little difficult to figure them out. There were many possibilities but Aoba felt like he might be letting his imagination run away from him.

The sound of footsteps approaching grabbed his attention. Perking up, he turned to the door. A sudden sense of trepidation came over him. He wasn’t in any danger, right? No one would go through so much trouble just to hurt or kill him, right? He wasn’t going to become a blood sacrifice or used for experimentations, right? The footsteps drew closer and Aoba instinctively started putting together a plan just in case things turned sour. He couldn’t do much in his current state but he had his fingernails, his teeth, his words. If something happened, he had options.

The footsteps came to a stop and Aoba held his breath as the curtain in front of the door was pushed inside. Who stepped inside was not anywhere close to what he was expecting. Standing in the door way was a tall, muscular man with black, spiky hair that looked soft to the touch, pale skin, strong but tender amber eyes – directly underneath his eyes were two dark colored tattoos or what he assumed to be tattoos, sharp lines and bold shapes that spanned almost the entire lengths of his cheeks. Sticking out of his hair were slightly pointed ears – both seemed to bear a large, golden earring of sorts. He was handsome, that Aoba immediately noticed. He was very handsome, in fact. There was nothing ragged or hermit like about him. The clothes he wore were rustic but obviously well taken care of. He was clad in a heavy blue coat that was buttoned across his chest, plain grey pants and black boots with silver hooks. Held in his large hands was a tray with a bowl emitting steam and a wooden cup he assumed held water or some kind of drinkable liquid.

Blinking in surprise, the only thing Aoba could think of to say was, “Welcome back.”

The man was staring down at him in surprise. He briskly walked over to the desk, set down the tray before turning back to Aoba, “Are you hurt?”

Aoba shook his head, “No, I tried to get up but my legs gave out.”

The man licked his lips nervously, “Do you want me to help you get back into bed?”

Aoba nodded, “Please. I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

The man didn’t respond but instead slowly walked over to him. Cautious, Aoba thought. It was obvious that the man didn’t want to scare him or make him uneasy. When he moved, it was in almost exaggerated way as though he was trying to show Aoba that he meant him no harm. The man finally made it over to him, knelt down beside him and slid one arm behind his back, the other underneath the crook of his knees, and picked him up with absolute ease. Up close, Aoba could see there was something kind of strange design in the man’s eyes: weaving lines of white that almost seemed to glow. He hadn’t been sure at first and he wasn’t one to jump to conclusions based on assumptions but he was relatively sure that this man was not human. He wasn’t an elf; his appearance wasn’t bizarre enough for that. It was possible he was a mage whose appearance had been altered by years of using magic. Aoba also detected a rather pleasant scent: earthy with a smoky undertone. It was pleasant, almost reminded him of home. And, if Aoba wasn’t mistaken, there was something very familiar about the man - his scent, the color of his hair, his eyes – he felt as though he knew him from somewhere.

The man set him down on the edge of the bed in an upright position before leaning back. He pushed a hand through his spiky hair and said in a quiet voice, “I need to check your arms and legs.”

Aoba looked up at him, tilted his head and remained silent for a few moments, searching the man’s face before nodding and saying, “First, will you tell me your name?”

“Ren.” The man replied without hesitation as he once again kneeled in front of Aoba.

“Ren.” Aoba repeated, “That’s a good name. Where are you from, Ren?”

“Lorke.”

Aoba’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise. Lorke was nearly on the other side of the world. Not only that but it was in the Northborg, one of the most ancient continents in all of the green and blue world. It was the home of the Elves of the East who lived in the eastern most corner, near the Pion, a mighty mountain range that was rumored to house the first temple of Igeth, the first of the Old Mothers, the oldest Mother of all. It was home of the Svens, a hybrid race of the Northmen and Svest, both now long deceased. It was the birthplace of runes, a magical but mysterious and dangerous place that not many traveled to nor did a great many leave. Blinking rapidly, he said, “You’re a North Born? That makes you a mighty long way from home, Ren.”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing out here, Ren?”

“Existing.” Ren replied back in a way that immediately told Aoba that he did not want to speak on the subject. Not wanting to be rude, Aoba decided to drop it. Giving his head a little shake, he asked another important question, “Why did you save me, Ren?”

“Because you needed help.” The answer was a simple one and obvious but it still made Aoba smile.

“That’s a good answer, Ren. Do you live here by yourself?”

“Yes. It is just me.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I have occupied this dwelling for a while but was called away for a short while. I’ve only been back for little over a week. May I check your arms and legs now, Aoba?”

Aoba blinked in surprise but before he could ask how Ren knew his name, he spoke up, “One of the people in the town threw away the satchel you had. I retrieved it, found your passport with the intent to see if there was anyone I could contact about your current situation and that is how I know your name.”

“Oh…” Aoba trailed off, that made sense. “Sorry. You can check, if you’d like.”

Ren shook his head as he began to unravel that bandages covered in runes around his legs, “There is nothing to be sorry for. I was not expecting immediate trust and was expecting many, many questions.”

Aoba watched as he completely unraveled the bandages on his left leg then his right before asking as he was placing them aside, “What are the runes for?”

“You had severe frostbite by the time I had found you. The runes were to heal your damaged skin, nerves and muscle.”

“Stimuli?”

“No, that would have been too dangerous. You could have ended up losing all feeling in your legs if I had done that.”

Aoba remained quiet as Ren gently ran his large hands over his legs, pressing down in some places, testing the flexibility of his toes, asking several times what this particular place on his leg felt like, could he feel Ren’s hand here, did it hurt there. Ren’s skin was calloused, rough but there was a pleasantness in the feel of the palms of his hands running along Aoba’s legs.

“How long have I been out, Ren?” He asked as Ren moved on to his arms.

“A little over a week.”

“You said you’ve only been here for a little over a week.”

“I found you on the day I came back here.”

“So I lucked out in this.”

“That is one way to look at it, yes.”

Leaning down so he and Ren were eye level, he smiled softly and said, “Thank you, Ren. You didn’t have to help me. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble but you did. I would have died if it hadn’t been for you. Thank you, Ren.”

To his pleasant surprise, a slight dusting of pink spread across Ren’s cheeks as he looked down and away, “You’re welcome, Aoba.”

Giggling softly, Aoba leaned back to give Ren some room and asked, “So? How does it look?”

Ren pushed himself up into a standing position before moving to pick up the bandages from the floor, “You’ve recovered nicely but you need to rest. As you can probably tell, you are still very weak. The biggest worry right now is you catching ill. Even the simplest and most harmless of colds could prove to be dangerous in your current state.” Ren paused, sighed and said, “I would like to take you to the next town over as there is a very talented healer there but that is a distance covered at best in the span of three days and, as we are in the Dead Winter, we have the risk of being caught in a snowstorm. I can call for him to come out here but would put him at risk as well.”

“Which neither one of us is really willing to risk.” Aoba finished, brushing a lock of blue hair out of his face.

Ren nodded in approval before hesitating for a moment, his eyes shifting to the side as he clearly thought about something. A moment of silence passed before he looked back to Aoba and said, “If you are not adverse to it, you are free to remain here, for as long as you like. I am not the most proficient healer but I can promise you won’t fall to harm if you remain here.”

Aoba laughed softly, “I don’t think I have much a choice, Ren. I can’t even really walk at this point so, as long as you are willing, I will be in your care.” He smiled up broadly at Ren, “Thank you. I will find some way to repay you, someday.”

“There is no need for that. I do this not in search of reward but because I wanted to.” Ren replied as he strode over to the desk. “I forgot about the soup,” he mumbled, “I will need to make some more.” He turned to look back at him, “Are you hungry?”

He was, in fact. He was very, very hungry. Nodding enthusiastically, he slid back into the bed, covered himself before asking, “I don’t suppose there is anything I can do to help? Be of some sort of assistance?”

“Rest, Aoba.” Ren said firmly as he went to walk out of the room with the tray. “You can be of help by putting your health first.” With that, he vanished outside of the room.

Aoba watched after him for a moment before letting out a long sigh. He was in an interesting predicament but he did not seem to be in any danger. Ren seemed like a good man, kind but a little strange. Though, he supposed that was not surprising. You needed to be a little weird if you were going to live out in the wilderness, all by yourself. Still, there was something very inviting and intriguing about him. Aoba still couldn’t figure out exactly what he was or if he was even telling the truth about the whole thing. Regardless, he had saved Aoba and that was more than enough reason to trust him, on some points, at least. He did seem to want to take care of him – there was something almost earnest in his care.

And, as he had noticed before, there was also something…familiar about him. Aoba was almost completely certain he had never seen him before – he didn’t exactly have the appearance you forgot quickly but at the same time, there was something so familiar about him. Something in the color of his hair, something in the tenderness of his eyes, something in his scent, there was something about him that Aoba knew, that he recognized.

But it was like a word on the tip of his tongue; he couldn’t get it out, no matter how much he thought on it.

His thoughts were interrupted when Ren re-emerged with a tray now holding two steaming bowls and two wooden cups. He strode over to the bed with purpose, set down the tray, gave Aoba one of the bowls which held what looked like some sort of stew and smelled absolutely heavenly. Aoba immediately began to blow on it, his mouth already filling with drool at the wonderful smell. Ren handed him a spoon before sitting on the edge of a bed and with a small, gentle smile began to blow on his own.

\--

The next several weeks passed peacefully. Regrettably, Aoba caught a severe fever shortly after awakening and was bedridden for even longer than originally planned. But, looking back on it all, he supposed that might have been a good thing, mostly because he got to spend a lot of time with Ren, who he had become very fond of in a very short amount of time. Though it was very inconvenient to be held up in such a way, in another way, he was a bit grateful to fate for having it be that he had to remain longer than planned. 

Glancing up from the book of olden fables Ren had gave him to pass the time while he was held up in bed, Aoba studied Ren’s the lines and curves of Ren’s broad back. The strange man was sitting at the desk, scribbling away on a sheet of paper and occasionally checking a large book, shifting through the pages, running a long finger along the page until he found what he was looking for then the scribbling would begin again. Aoba didn’t bother to ask what he was doing, he had quickly learned that Ren was very open about some things: his home, which was actually a little ways west of Lorke and was a small, teeny tiny town that had three different names depending on who you talked to: Landfell, Borton or Chim (Ren himself preferred Chim), his travels – where he had been (all over, Ren had stories of the Grand Electoral College in the North, of the immense Easten Ringold Forest where in lived a very rare species of Fae, of the spiraling towers of the Old Mothers’ Kingdom in the high reaches of the South, where the land began thin and brittle, and many more), of those he had been (dark elves, trolls of all shapes and sizes, all different types of Fae (his favorite had been the Fae of the Water as they had shimmered and glisten like still water), the wolves from the Wve Plains, even a mighty giant that had strolled into a village, paid for a chicken and promptly add the raw flesh whole, bones and all), as well as his knowledge on various fields of potions, glyphs, runes and magic (for someone who said he didn’t have much knowledge in runes and such, he certainly knew a great deal about them) but there were other things that he immediately clammed up when asked: his work, what he was, what he was working on, what he was doing here, what did he do when he left the cave, where did he go. Though, this wasn’t something Aoba was overly offended about. He had no right to that information so when Ren expressed obvious discomfort or clammed up, he dropped the issue. Sure, he was curious but satisfying his curiosity wasn’t worth bothering and disrespecting Ren.

He didn’t know exactly how long he had been in the cave. Ren didn’t keep track of time very well (he said it was because he had no reason to as he had no deadlines or anything of that manner to think of) but had estimated that it had been a few weeks – most likely, he had said, about a month and a half. Normally, having to be in one place, practically confined to the bed for such a long period of time would have driven Aoba crazy but all that time had allowed him to get to know Ren slightly better and get close to him.

Over the many days they had spent together, the feeling of familiarity grew and grew until Aoba was absolutely convinced he had met Ren sometime, somewhere before. He had brought the subject up to Ren but, not surprisingly, the strange man had immediately changed the subject which had pretty much cemented in Aoba’s mind that they had met sometime in the past, though he knew he wasn’t going to find anything out from Ren. The man didn’t lie and never seemed to be trying to deceive Aoba but when he didn’t want to talk about something, Aoba felt like nothing in this world could make him.

But, there was something in that that Aoba really admired. Sure, it was a bit annoying for him because he did honestly want to know more about Ren but at the same time, he admired his steadfastness, his resolve, his quiet but gentle nature, his determination, his intelligence. He could be a bit overprotective and prone to overthinking things as well as being quite the worrywart who was convinced Aoba could collapse at any moment but there was something almost cute in that – maybe it was because he was so serious, so earnest but Aoba couldn’t deny that there was just something so unbelievably cute about Ren.

Glancing back down at his book, he flipped to the next page and sighed. He wondered if his near death experience had made him weird or maybe it was Ren saving him that was making him feel so oddly. Aoba knew he wasn’t exactly the most perceptive man in the world but that didn’t mean he was entirely out of touch with his own emotions. He could recognize when something was going on and something was most definitely going on with him.

And he knew it was all because of Ren.

This peaceful, pleasant, warm feeling; this longing, wanting, impatient feeling – all of it was because of Ren.

Sighing, Aoba closed the book and shifted down onto his side. This could just be foolishness – mistaking gratefulness for love, similar to how a victim will fall in love with their rescuer but this…this didn’t feel like foolishness. Pulling his legs up to his chest and curled slightly into a ball, Aoba snuggled down underneath the blankets and sighed again. He knew he wasn’t very perceptive and he knew he could be a bit ignorant at times but this was hard to mistake for something else.

There was something about Ren. Something familiar, something he couldn’t put his finger on that just drew him to the strange man – there was something about Ren that drew him close, made him want to be close, to reach out and stroke his fingers down his pale, smooth skin, to ruffle his spiky, soft hair and make it all mussed, to just be with him.

He supposed that could be qualified as love. This was his first time experiencing it so strongly but he could at least tell that that was what it was. And, it might be wishful thinking, but he could swear that Ren felt the same or at least similar. There was something in the way he looked at him, the way he spoke, how he always reached out to him, how he always looked for some kind of reason or excuse to touch him – fingertips brushed lightly against his skin, gentle strokes across his head, playful squeezes of his fingers, ginger, almost loving touches that spread warmth throughout Aoba’s entire body – warmth he could never get enough of, warmth he was constantly, almost desperately reaching out for.

There was something between them. That much he could say indefinitely but as for what it was, he couldn’t say. He’d like to believe it was love but again, wishful thinking. He was certain there were people all over the world mistaking simple gestures and looks for romantic affection, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up being one of those damn fools. Still, it didn’t hurt to hope. There was always a chance, after all.

Sighing once again, he turned his eyes to Ren’s broad back and wondered for what felt like the umpteenth time if he was being foolish. There was a very large part of him that believed he was. Could people fall in love this quick? Though, if he were being entirely fair with himself, he felt like he knew Ren in a way – like there was some history between the two of them but given the fact that he couldn’t place when or where he had seen or met him before, that might just be his foolishness coming into play.

Brushing a lock of blue hair out of his face, Aoba sighed once again. Maybe this was just foolishness.

“Is something wrong, Aoba? You are sighing an awful lot.”

Jumping at the sound of Ren’s soft voice, Aoba looked up. Ren had moved over from his desk and was now standing directly in front of him, leaning over slightly and looking down at him with a slightly concerned expression.

Smiling, Aoba shook his head and said, “No, nothing is wrong. I’m sorry to worry you.”

Ren gave a small smile in return, “There is nothing to be sorry for. I am glad that nothing is bothering you. I imagine it cannot be easy to be confined to bed for such a long period.”

Aoba snorted, “It’s better than being dead, I suppose. And it’s not like this is forever. I shall be up in no time at all and finally be out of your hair.” He finished with a playful lilt to his voice.

Ren tilted his head before looking down at him with a look that Aoba couldn’t quite decipher, “And what will you do then, Aoba?”

Startled by the question, Aoba blinked, paused for a few moments before looking down at his hands. What was he going to do when he was all healed? He had been confined to a bed, almost too weak to even walk for several weeks but it wasn’t going to be that way forever. He was already strong enough to walk around the room, though that left him exhausted after just a few rounds of the admittedly small room but pretty soon there would be no reason for him to stay here anymore. What was he going to do then? The obvious question would be to leave, to continue on his own path. He didn’t have any destination in mind but that didn’t mean he could just stay with Ren. The man had been taking care of him for a long time but he doubted that he could extend his stay indefinitely with him just because he wanted to. He had taken up enough of his time and effort, it would be selfish of him to request even more when he had already given so much.

He didn’t want to leave Ren. He wanted to stay with him but he had no reason for doing so. He couldn’t just assume Ren’s feelings and push himself on the man. That wasn’t fair to him.

Turning to look back up to Ren, he smiled and said, “I don’t know at the moment. I will need to think on it. I’m sorry.”

The way that Ren was looking at him was so strange. It wasn’t dark or empty, nor conflicted or concerned but just strange. It looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Blinking slowly, Aoba pushed himself up, reached out to grasp hold of Ren’s fingers and asked softly, “Ren? Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Ren answered after a moment of silence. He paused for a length more, just looking down at Aoba with that strange look before he curled his fingers around Aoba’s hand, leaned down so they were at eye level and slid his other across Aoba’s cheek, cupping his chin with his thumb, “You do not have to decide right away. You are not a bother nor are you dead weight. You may remain here, for as long as you may need to or want to.”

His heart was hammering out of his chest. Across his cheeks, he could feel the flame of blush spreading. Struggling not to show how badly affected he was, he glanced down at his hands and murmured out, “Thank you, Ren. I really do appreciate that.”

He had expected that to be the end of it so when Ren leaned down even further and pressed a soft, warm, gentle kiss against his temple, he let out a startled but thankfully quiet gasp. Feeling the extraordinary heat in his cheeks and knowing he must be blushing furiously, Aoba jerked his head up to come face to face with Ren. There was a dusting of pink along his cheeks but the rest of his face was calm and collected. Though, and Aoba knew he might be imaging it, there was a glint of something in his eyes – something fiery, something wanting, something hungry. Aoba blinked several times and went to say something when Ren suddenly said, “I have to go out for a short while. We’ve run out of firewood and it is supposed to be very cold tonight. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

Swallowing against the dryness that had suddenly erupted in his throat, Aoba nodded and rasped out, “It isn’t like I could go with you even if I wasn’t.”

Ren chuckled softly before leaning back, “I will be gone no less than an hour.” With that, he strode over to the door, pushed back the curtain, paused for a moment before turning back around with that same strange look and said, “Wait for me, alright, Aoba?”

Aoba blinked, nodded and said, “I’ll be here when you get back.”

To his surprise, a warm, happy grin spread across Ren’s face. Aoba’s heart jumped violently in his chest. That kind of smile...that was a first. 

With a swish of the curtain, Ren vanished and the room went quiet. Aoba watched after him for a short while, somewhat in a daze before falling over onto his side and curling up into a ball.

What was that? Why had Ren kissed him? Sure, it had just been a simple kiss on the temple but that expression, the atmosphere, that smile! He had looked so happy! What on earth was going on?

Sighing, Aoba rolled over onto his back and looked up at the rocky ceiling. Regardless of what it was, Ren had said he could stay here, for as long as he needed...or wanted. Did that mean he didn’t really want him to leave? Or did it just mean he didn’t need to push himself? Placing the heels of his hands over his eyes, Aoba groaned softly. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand anything! What did Ren want? What did Ren feel? What was he to him?

He just couldn’t figure it out. Dropping his hands to his side, he heaved another sigh before rolling over onto his side. He was tired all of the sudden. All of that excitement had taken a lot of energy from him. Closing his eyes, he snuggled underneath the covers. As he was drifting off into sleep, he wondered how Ren would react if he were to tell him how much he wanted to stay with him, how much he didn’t want to be separated, how hard he was falling in love with him. Would he be flabbergasted? Angry? Confused? Happy? He wanted to tell him. Regardless of what his reaction would be, he sincerely, deeply wanted to.

\--

The sound of heavy footsteps woke him from his slumber. Blinking groggily, Aoba pushed himself up and looked around the room. It was dark. The candle that had been burning on Ren’s desk had gone out. It was cold as well. There was a glyph on the floor next to Aoba’s bed that generated heat but when he leaned over to look at it, it had faded significantly. Furrowing his brows, he reached down to brush his fingertips against the orange ink embedded in the floor. It was cold as well.

That’s odd, Aoba thought. Ren had fueled it just an hour before he had left. These glyphs were usually good for up to four hours. It should still be going strong. Had more than four hours passed?

If so, where was Ren?

Feeling a bit panicky, Aoba slid his legs over the edge of the bed and shakily got to his feet. He couldn’t go far but he could at least look for Ren. Steadying himself on the bed, he made to walk out of the room when loud, almost booming footsteps coming from outside the room froze him in his tracks.

Those were not Ren’s. Ren moved in an audible way but he was never that loud, especially when he knew Aoba might be sleeping. Whoever was outside the door was not Ren.

Now very close to panicking, Aoba took a step back. His eyes darted around the room for a hiding spot but there was none. Anywhere he could be was out in the open, completely visible to anyone who walked into the room. Struggling to keep his breathing under control, Aoba next looked for something he could use as a weapon. The only thing he could see was Ren’s quill but he doubt that would do much good. He had his fingernails, his teeth but in his weakened state, he doubted those would do much either.

Another round of loud footsteps sounded, these even closer to the door then the previous. Perhaps he could hide underneath the covers – whomever it was would glance in and see an empty room, there was a chance they wouldn’t check to make sure.

But, before Aoba could move, the curtain was ripped from the door. Standing in the doorway was a tall, hulking man with a scruffy beard that covered the entire bottom half of his face and the entirety of his neck. There was an immense dusting of snow on his massive shoulders and atop his head, which was covered by a wool cap of sorts. Two milky eyes stared at him, unblinking as the man took a step into the room. Immediately, Aoba was hit with an atrocious smell that nearly had him gagging. Placing a hand over his mouth, he noticed that the man’s clothes were filthy, as though they had never been washed. There was also something crazed about him – something in his empty expression, in the way he held himself, in the way he looked at Aoba.

Stepping another step backwards, Aoba knew immediately he was in danger. Glancing around the room, he looked desperately for something, anything that could help him against the beast of a man in front of him.

“Found you.” The man suddenly spoke, his voice like boulders being crushed.

Freezing, Aoba fought against the shake that had settled into his legs and forced out, “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man didn’t respond but instead charged head first at Aoba. Aoba tried to jump out of the way but his weak, shaking legs folded underneath him and he fell with a crash to the ground. He attempted to get up and crawl away but a strong hand gripped his ankle in a punishingly cruel grip and yanked him back. Yelping in pain, he rolled over onto his back and landed a blow with his other foot square in the middle of his attacker’s face. Blood immediately spurted everywhere the moment he had made contact. The sole of his heel had connected with the bridge of his attacker’s nose, shattering it. Roaring in pain and anger, the monster of a man released his foot and brought both hands to his face to wipe away the blood. Seeing his chance, Aoba scrambled to his feet. His legs were still wobbly but adrenaline was kicking in – he just needed to milk it for all it was worth.

Dashing out of the room, he found himself in a bigger cavern with a wider area and a higher ceiling. Glancing around, he felt his heart plummet into his stomach when he found that this room had practically nothing in it. It was obviously something of a food storage room with a simple, modest kitchen but that was about it. There was nothing he could hide in, under or behind. That left him with only one option: going outside and taking his chance with whatever was out there.

A loud crashing sound rung from where he had once been and Aoba jumped. It was followed by a terrifying roar as though there was an actual beast in that room instead of a man. He didn’t have time. He needed to move. His attacker was not going to stay stunned for much longer and when he came after him again, it was going to be with double the ferocity. Aoba’s only chance was to go outside.

Seeing another doorway with a curtain torn from it on the other side of the cavern, Aoba bolted over to it. He was almost out when there was a sudden searing hot pain in his leg. Crying out, he fell to his stomach and whipped around to see what looked like a small dagger embedded in his thigh. Gasping at the pain, he looked up to see that his assailant had entered the room.

He did not look happy.

His eyes were wild, inhuman like those of a deranged beast. His mouth was pulled into a fearsome snarl. Blood covered every inch of his wild face and dripped from his fingertips. Even from across the room, Aoba could hear his heavy breathing. Ice cold terror began to flood inside his chest as the man began to slowly stalk towards him. 

He was going to die. This beast of a man was going to kill him. Ren was going to come back and find him dead in the entrance. Would he even be able to recognize him after the man was done? Would there even be any of him left?

Trying his best to ignore the pain, Aoba began to push himself backwards with the heels of his hand. He couldn’t go out like this, not like this. He needed to do something. He couldn’t let something like this happen to him. He couldn’t let something like this happen to Ren. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair.

Breathing hard, he desperately looked around the closet surroundings for something, anything he could grab that would be useful as a weapon but there was nothing. He cursed himself for not grabbing a knife or something from the kitchen. It was possible for him to pull the dagger out from his leg and use it but with that, he risked bleeding to death. There was already a significant pooling of blood underneath him, he couldn’t risk pulling it out. 

The man was almost upon him now. Aoba could see an almost hungry, joyful glint in his eyes as he came ever closer.

“This is your fault, you know.” The man rasped, his voice filled with what sounded like ecstasy. A profound shiver raced down Aoba’s spine as he gave himself another hearty push towards the doorway.

“Yes,” the man continued, licking blood from his lips, “your fault. If you had just stayed and died like you were supposed to, none of this would be happening. If you had just been a good little sacrifice, this never would have happened!”

Aoba wasn’t even halfway out the doorway when the man was front in front of him. Looking down with a ferocious, crazed, blood smeared grin and a wild fire in his eyes, he whispered, “But all of that is going to change, right here, right now. You’ll get your death and we’ll get our peace. That is how it works. That is how it’s always works. Gotta give something special to get something special.”

The man reached down, grabbed a fistful of Aoba’s hair, yanked him up from the ground as Aoba screamed in pain and threw him across the room. Aoba landed on his shoulder and he felt something in his arm snap. Gasping in pain, Aoba rolled over onto his back. The man’s smile was almost delirious now as he walked over to him with purpose.

He was going to die. This man was going to beat him to death. There would be nothing but pulp left of him. He needed to do something but what could he do? He could tell for certain the man was either not going to let him kick him again or wouldn’t be phased by it this time, and Aoba didn’t practically want a broken ankle on top of everything else. Though, with the way things were going, a broken ankle wouldn’t mean much to him if he was dead.

Trying not to let the screaming panic inside of him take over, Aoba used his good arm to push himself up and tried to get to his feet. His legs almost immediately went out from under him. Tumbling to the floor, he caught himself with his bad arm and electric shots of horrible pain radiated through it. Crying out, he collapsed in a heap on the cold floor. Gasping, he looked up to find the man standing directly over him.

The glee that was in his eyes was almost sickening. Aoba felt like he was going to vomit.

In a lightning fast movement that Aoba didn’t even see, the man’s arm shot down and his hand closed around his neck. Gasping in pain, Aoba clawed at the hand holding him in a desperate attempt to free himself but it was no use. The grip was iron tight. Gritting his teeth, he stared into the man’s crazed eyes and forced out, “Why are you doing this?”

The man’s smile became even wider, “I said it already, didn’t I? You gotta give something important to get something important.” The man’s hand tightened around his neck. Spots danced in front of Aoba’s eyes as his oxygen was cut off. Gasping for hair, he slammed his fist into the side of the man’s face. When that did nothing, he attempted to claw out his eyes with his fingernails but the man simply stood up, out of Aoba’s reach.

His vision was going white. He felt so dizzy. Everything hurt. He was going to die.

Grounding his teeth together, he stared up at the man holding him, killing him, stared up at that ferocious grin and anger began to bubble violently in his chest. He had done nothing wrong, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this, to die like this. Gotta give something important to get something important? What kind of asinine bullshit was that?! Looking up at his dumb, crazed face just made Aoba angrier and angrier until the only thing he could feel was the seething rage roaring in his chest – he couldn’t accept this! He wouldn’t!

Reaching up with his good hand, he gripped the man’s wrist, opened his mouth and said, “Stop.”

The voice that came out was not his. It was too deep, too strong to be his but that didn’t matter. The moment he spoke, the man’s grip slackened and Aoba fell from his grasp. Choking, he looked up at the man to find him with an utterly vacant look on his face. A couple moments of silence passed before the man looked down at him and opened his mouth as though he was going to say something when his head suddenly vanished.

Blinking in shock as a shower of blood spurted out from the now deceased man’s neck, Aoba watched as his body crumbled. Standing directly behind the man was a massive black-blue wolf with golden eyes that were gleaming angrily. The wolf’s mouth was pulled back in a fearsome snarl. Blood stained one of its large paws.

Growling loudly, the wolf padded over to the corpse, gripped the torso in its teeth and promptly dragged it out of the room, leaving a long blood trail behind it.

Left alone in the stillness and silence, Aoba let out the long breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Immediately after letting it out, his body began to shake violently. Tears rushed to his eyes, quickly spilling over to roll down his cheeks. He didn’t understand what was going on but he seemed safe, for the moment, at least. Gasping, he looked over to his throbbing arm. In the dim light, he could spread ugly bruises already beginning to form. There was also an awkward bend to it that clearly told him it was broken. As to how badly it was, he couldn’t tell. Struggling to hold back sobs, he next checked his leg. It hurt but thankfully, the bleeding seemed to have slowed. The knife had stayed lodged in despite the rough handling he had experienced which was probably a good thing.

He was beat up but not seriously hurt. Most importantly, he was alive. He had that, at least, to be grateful for.

The sound of soft, padding footsteps reached his ears and when Aoba looked up, the black-blue wolf was standing in the doorway, looking at him. There was something intelligent in his eyes – it wasn’t as though he were looking at a wild animal but something that understood what was going on. Unsure what to do or say, Aoba studied the wolf and to his surprise, he found that it was familiar. There was something in the color of its fur and eyes, something in its expression that Aoba knew.

Tilting his head, momentarily forgetting his pain, Aoba took a closer look at the wolf. It took him several moments of close analyzing before he finally realized how he recognized it and where he recognized it from.

“Ah!” Aoba cried out, lifting one arm to point at the wolf, “You’re the wolf from Rodat!!”

It had been a couple of years ago. During his travels, he had come into the small fishing town of Rodat and had found a massive black-blue wolf tied to a post in the middle of the town. The poor thing had been beaten viciously - its entire body had been covered with cuts, gashes and blood. A local townsman had told him it was because the wolf was a monster that had preyed on young woman and they were planning on killing it by stoning later on that week. Aoba had taken one look into his calm but pained eyes and knew that was horseshit. It was just horrid people satisfying their need for violence. Aoba had freed it during the middle of the night, gotten it out of town and spent close to three weeks nursing it back to health. He had intended to get him to Normag Woods, which was a safe haven for all types of animals as no hunting or poaching as allowed there and strict laws kept the animals safe but he had awoken one morning during the fourth week to find the wolf gone with no trace left.

Aoba could still remember how sad he had been when he had discovered the wolf gone. He had gotten very attached to the lovely animal – it had been gentle and protective, and had obviously been very intelligent. But, he had figured that the wolf was still a wild animal and he had no claim to it so he had moved on. It was sad, and he had missed that wolf dearly but that was the way of the world.

Letting his arm fall back down, he looked at the wolf in utter astonishment and asked, “What on earth are you doing here?!”

The wolf made no response, which didn’t surprise Aoba. No matter how intelligent it was, it was still a wild animal. It was obviously not an Anthro, a beast that had learned the magic and word of man, so there was no way it’d be able to talk. Brushing his disheveled hair out of his face, he gestured to the wolf and said, “Come here, please. Help me stand, would you? I need to do something about…” Aoba paused before gesturing at his general state of being, “this.”

To his surprise, the wolf didn’t move. Before, the wolf had always understood complicated verbal commands. Even though he could not speak, he had seemed to understand man’s tongue. Blinking in surprise, Aoba turned his gaze once again to the wolf and studied him.

Something was odd. He knew the wolf from Rodat but there was something else about him. Something else that was familiar. Yes, the color of his fur and eyes was identical to the wolf he had rescued it Rodat but he felt like he knew those colors from somewhere else. Those eyes…they looked so familiar. He knew them from somewhere…

No…not from somewhere but from someone.

“Ren?” Aoba asked softly. “Ren, is that you?”

There was a moment of absolute stillness before the wolf started to change shape. Within a few seconds, standing in its place was a very pale Ren. Blinking in utter astonishment, Aoba felt his mouth open and close several times before he snapped it shut and simply stared at the man in front of him.

Ren was the wolf from Rodat. There was no mistaking that but just…how? How on earth? What on earth? He didn’t even know where to begin with his questions.

“Aoba.” Ren suddenly spoke, his voice cautious and quiet but with a undertone of barely controlled panic. “I need to treat your wounds, Aoba.”

Realizing that this was not the time for questions, Aoba nodded and gave a weak smile, “Yes, that would be nice. Could you help me up, Ren?”

To his surprise, Ren walked over to him but in a slow, careful way as though he was making sure he didn’t frighten him. Watching him, Aoba got the distinct feeling that this was something Ren had not wanted to show him and had only been forced to under these circumstances. He wondered if other people had reacted in fear and horror at learning this secret. He imagined there had been. People who could turn into wolves or wolves who could turn into people, either way, most likely would not be warmly received. Wolves were bad omens – they brought teeth and violence and blood and death. They were highly feared in many communities and the antagonists of a great many fables, legends and tales. He could only imagine what life must have been like for someone living as both a human and a wolf.

“Ren.” Aoba spoke up, holding out a hand. “It’s okay. I’m not scared so please, come here.”

Ren paused for a moment, studying Aoba’s face before his shoulders visibly dropped with relief and he quickly moved over to Aoba’s side.

“I’m sorry.” He began to whisper frantically as he carefully slid his arm underneath Aoba’s legs, “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Aoba. I’m sorry.” He repeated it over and over again as he lifted him into the air and carried him back to the bedroom.

Holding on tightly to the back of his head, weaving his fingers through the strands of soft hair, Aoba pressed his forehead against Ren’s cheek. He shushed him soothingly, gripping the material of his shirt as firmly as he could with a broken arm. There was so much pain, regret and guilt in his voice. It hurt Aoba to hear him talk like that.

Ren set him down on the bed then promptly flew about the room, putting together healing glyphs and bandages covered with healing runes for him. Aoba watched him tiredly as he ran about, his lips moving in quiet spells to activate the glyphs and runes, his face as white as the snow that he had tracked in from the outside, his large hands shaking as he unraveled the bandages.

Ren was the wolf from Rodat. Aoba was still having difficultly wrapping his head around that. That must be where he knew him from – why he was so familiar to him. His scent, the colors, the demeanor, the personality, all were the same as that wolf. It was odd but not entirely off putting. He had certainly heard of stranger things happening and it did, in a way, make sense. He had not seen Ren in his human form but there was enough in similarities to his wolf one that it made sense he had picked up on them. It also explained why Aoba had fallen so fast – the familiarity, closeness was already there, he just needed a little bit more for it to develop into heart felt love. He wasn’t going to fall in love with a wolf, that was for certain but the man? The man he was. The man he had. He could admit that. This wasn’t foolishness. He knew that know. He wasn’t afraid of that know.

However, he did have one question.

“Why did you leave?” he asked, his voice soft but not accusing. “Back then, why did you go?”

Ren stopped, visibly hesitating as he stared down at the rune he was carving into a length of bandages. Aoba saw him swallow before he looked up, the bandages still in his hands. There was a hurt, apologetic expression on his face which only magnified the already troubled one that was there.

“I’m sorry-“

“Ren.” Aoba stopped him, his voice firm. “No apologies. I’m not angry. I just wanted to know.”

Ren played the bandages in his hand for a moment before striding over to him. Dropping to his knees, he fished something out a medium sized wooden box from beneath the bed and placed it beside Aoba. Flipping it open, he pulled out a small round container and screwed off the top. Inside was some kind of goo that smelled strongly of medicine. Wrinkling his nose, Aoba asked, “What is that?”

“Something to help with the bleeding and pain. I need to remove the knife.” Ren glanced up at him, his face still very pale, “I’m sorry, Aoba.”

Aoba sighed, “Enough apologizing, already! This is not your fault. So please, just do what you need to do! I’ll be fine.” He finished with a weak but warm smile directed at Ren.

Ren nodded before scooping up a large amount of the white goop. He carefully smeared it all over the edges of the wound, pushing down lightly to help it seep in in-between the knife and flesh. Wincing in pain, Aoba kept himself as still as possible. He didn’t want to spook Ren.

Almost immediately, the area around the wound went completely numb. Relaxing a little, he turned to Ren, “I think its okay, now.”

Ren nodded again, took hold of the hilt and pulled out slowly. To Aoba’s surprise, there was no pain. He couldn’t feel anything. Completely relaxed, he turned his head away so he didn’t become nauseous at the sight of it. He could feel blood running down his leg but he paid it no mind as it didn’t feel like an excessive amount. Ren immediately set smearing more goop on the open wound before quickly wrapping his leg up in the rune covered bandages.

Next was his arm. This was a little less tricky as all Ren did was add a numbing rune to the bandages before tenderly wrapping his arm up.

When he was finished, he said, “We’ll go to the healer in the next time over soon and have him check you out. I’m not confident enough in my abilities to let it remain like this.” Ren went to move away but Aoba quickly snagged hold of his shirt with his good hand. Pulling him down, he looked Ren in the eyes and asked again, “Why did you leave, Ren?”

Ren remained silent for several moments before looking down at his hands and whispering, “I did not want to burden you.”

“Burden me?”

“I am a cursed being. You’ve seen what I am. I cannot burden someone with that.”

“You’re not making sense, Ren. How is that a burden? How is it a curse? You can turn into a wolf, so?”

Ren chuckled, a dark, melancholy sound that made Aoba’s heart shake, “There are many who would not agree with you, Aoba.”

“Is that why you’re out here?” Aoba asked after a moment of silence.

“Partly, yes. There are times when I cannot control the change. It is dangerous for me to live close to or in populated areas. You’ve seen what happens when I do.”

Aoba blinked, unsure how to respond. This was something that could not be comforted with simple words. It was obvious that Ren’s nature had caused him so much grief, so much pain. Aoba couldn’t even imagine being in that kind of position. It must have been so lonely for him – to be utterly isolated from the world because of something he didn’t choose, something he couldn’t control.

Reaching up, he set his hand on the back of Ren’s head and began to gently stroke his hair, “I’m sorry, Ren. I’m so sorry.”

“It is alright. I have learned to live with this. I have learned how to control it, how to use it wisely.” Ren looked up at him before leaning into his touch. Aoba shifted his hand over to rub the backs of his fingers along Ren’s cheek. Ren’s eyes slid close as he leaned further into Aoba’s touch, a soft, almost contended sigh escaping his lips.

“I was so happy when you saved me, Aoba.” Ren whispered, his eyes still closed. “I was so happy when you stood up for me. I was so happy when you smiled at me, when you talked to me like I wasn’t a beast, wasn’t an animal. It hurt,” Ren reached up to clasp his hand in his own before bringing it to his lips, “it hurt so much to leave you. I wanted to stay with you, to protect you but I couldn’t…I couldn’t risk you finding out, I couldn’t risk putting you in danger.” Ren looked up at him, his amber his pained, “I didn’t know what could happen to you if I stayed. There are always people hunting the ones like me. People who care not for the lives and plights of others, only that they kill their target. I didn’t…I didn’t want you to be hurt because of me. I was scared…scared that I wouldn’t be able to protect you.” Ren pressed a soft kiss into the palm of his hand, his brows furrowed, his face contorted with pain. “When I found you in that field, surrounding by the bones of those who had been sacrificed before, I never felt more scared and angry in my life. You were so cold, so still, I was terrified that I was too late but you were still alive – by some miracle, you still were. I…” Ren paused, his shoulders hunched up, his mouth twisting into a trembling frown. He took a deep breath, let it out harshly before continuing, “I’m so sorry, Aoba. I lied. I lied to you. I could have taken you to the healer. I could have changed into my other form and gotten you there quickly but I…I didn’t want to let you go. Here you were, almost by fate, almost by chance, you were there with me again and selfishly, I wanted to hang onto you. I didn’t want to be separated from you again. These past years, all I could think of was you. I know that must sound terrifying-“

“It doesn’t.” Aoba interrupted him, his voice kind. “It isn’t, Ren.” He slid his hand underneath Ren’s chin and lifted his head up so they were eye to eye, “It makes me very happy that you felt that way, that you still feel that because I…” Aoba smiled shyly, “I ended up feeling the same.”

“Eh?” The look of surprise that came over Ren’s face was almost comical.

Aoba giggled a little before continuing, “I didn’t want to leave. When you asked me what I was going to do after I got better, all I could think about was how much I wanted to stay with you, how much I didn’t want to be separated from you.” He curled his fingers around Ren’s jaw and smiled lovingly, “I wanted to be here, with you. Is that weird, Ren?”

“No!” Ren replied firmly, his amber eyes determined, “It makes me happy, Aoba.” The determined look crumbled a little as just how happy he was became apparent in his face. Dropping his head, he once again placed a kiss against Aoba’s palm and whispered, “I want to protect you, Aoba. I want you to be here with me. I always, always want you to be with me. I…Aoba…I,” Ren looked up, his eyes strong and determined, a light dusting of pink across his cheeks and said, “I love you, Aoba.”

Aoba smiled in return, feeling almost a sense of profound relief rush over him, “I love you too, Ren.”

Across Ren’s face spread the happiest, most content smile Aoba had ever seen. The smile had had seen before didn’t even compare to the one on his face now. Reaching up to cup Aoba’s face in his hands, he leaned close, bumped their foreheads together and whispered, “Thank you, Aoba.”

Leaning into his touch, he slipped his fingers though Ren’s soft hair and smiled, “You are a strange one, you know that, Ren?”

A soft, gentle chuckle reached his ears as Ren pulled back slightly with that warm smile still on his face before dipping down to press a brief, chaste but loving kiss against Aoba’s lips. Aoba’s heart jumped in excitement at that simple brushing and it ended entirely too soon. He pouted a little when Ren pulled back which immediately earned him another chuckle from Ren.

“No more.” He said. “If I keep going, I won’t be able to stop myself.” Ren stood, paused by the edge of the bed to reach down to stroke the backs of his fingers along Aoba’s cheek before giving his head a little nod, “Medicine. You’ll need medicine to fight off infection. And you need to sleep. Sleep is the best medicine.” He continued to mumble to himself as he moved away and started for the door.

“Ren?” Aoba called when he was about to exit.

Ren turned around, “Yes?”

“Be here when I wake up?”

Ren blinked in surprise before he strode back over to the bed, took Aoba’s face in his hands and pressed a firmer, stronger, more passionate kiss against his lips. Gasping against Ren’s firm lips, Aoba breathed in deep, trying to bring in as much of Ren’s scent as possible. Again, the kiss ended entirely too early but Aoba was already on the edge of passing out. Still gripping his face in his hands, Ren once again pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “Sleep. You are safe. I will protect you, Aoba. Always.”

And with those words ringing warmly, pleasantly in his ears, Aoba smiled up at Ren before peacefully slipping into slumber.


End file.
